August 2002 Archives
God... not another TV addiction: seen the pilot and second epi of "The West Wing". Very entertaining.
Christ there's no end to it... here's the William Orbit mix of U2's Electrical Storm.
Proposition: I have a CD here, brand new, played once, that I really don't like. If you have the same problem... how about a swap? First come first go.
Consequences #24. This is good. By the Fez.
The new Coldplay album does a whole lot more for me than their nice but bland first effort. It's a BIG album and thus reminds me of The Waterboys in their more productive era. It's their 'This is the Sea'. There's a drive behind it. Hope, passion... Are we quite sure Coldplay are not Celtic? God, I hope Chris Martin doesn't end up in a jesus freak cult like Mike Scott. "Green Eyes" even sounds like one of the later, less interesting, Waterboys tunes. When they settled down in Dublin and did a lot of dope. Anyway, god bless any band that calls a song 'Amsterdam'. Even if there's no other reference to the city in the song.
It's a bit annoying that the lyrics for Coldplay's new album aren't in the booklet. Here's a text file with the lot of them. Scraped from the album's promo site's invisble layers.
Bloody hell, troubled diva is back two days and already there's a WORLD of posts to wade through.
My friend Diana's photos are on line. She recently graduated from Art School. Her panorama photos are manipulated in Photoshop.
Yeah, but I'm not a guy.
Shoe fetish, yes. Bag fetish too. I am completely unable to stop buying cool travel bags. On sale, a JanSport classic duffel. To put, oh, I don't know, swimwear in.
I've just implemented MT's standalone TrackBack tool. (see "TB" underneath posts) It works like a dream. Ping away. I hope Ben and Mena are going to get rewarded (awarded) for the phenomenal work they're doing for online communication.
It's interesting how, when you've just learnt a new word, you'll start seeing it Wherever You Are.
Hospital: "And on the 5th day, there shall be ankle tapage. Please see your doctor." Doctor: "Um... I don't know how to tape ankles. Please consult a physiotherapist." Me: "Fuck that."
So that was the demo, earlier this week... this is the real thing. Bit of static on this one, recorded from a Toronto radio station: Electrical Storm (radio edit).
movabletype.org: News: Ben and Mena release a standalone TrackBack application. Excellent.
Well, at least I learnt a new word listening to Fanning: BOTOX.
Listening to Fanning on 2FM... I remember when he was good, I remember being envious not being able to receive RTE in Holland. I remember backpacking through Ireland with a radio clutched to my ear every night listening to this bloke playing the best music. What the fuck is this... the celebrity show?
RELEVANT magazine :: GOD.LIFE.PROGRESSIVE CULTURE.. Like the look of this. Not sure if I linked it before.
So I'm wondering, did I hurt my ankle despite or because I was wearing my brand new Perry Ellis retro look shoes?
The first thing my dad said on seeing me me when my mum delivered the goods, so to speak, was: "My, but the child has big feet!"
I must have heard and filed it somewhere labelled "important", because to this day, I cannot wear shoes that make my feet look small.
Looking down at my feet, they must protrude. Looking sideways in the mirror or in shop windows, they must visually impress.
I only feel as good as the footwear I'm standing in and I'm forever judging people by the shoes they choose to live in. Big shoes good. Small shoes bad. Not to speak about the WRONG shoes.
If you happen to be my colleague, I am the most likely co-worker to ask: "New shoes?" I'll forget your birthdays, your names, disregard your haircut and your specs, I'll ignore you most of the time and I couldn't care less about your kids, but I won't pass over a new pair of boots.
Which I something I won't be telling prospective employers this year.
Groan. From a TV script (episode not yet aired): JARED: "There's whole forums on you in the chat rooms, man. But who knew you actually, like, existed." Writers don't get out much, do they? Unlike us, um, internet folk. ... And then I see people who RUN mailing lists calling them 'chat boards' and I just want to jump off the cliffs. (of Moher, preferably) I blame Yahoo for everything.
The Typographic Generator (based on Linguasso)
It's hot as hell, honey in this room
sure hope the weather will break soon
the air is heavy, heavy as a truck
hope the rain will wash away our bad luck
Pilot didn't grab me, but after 6 episodes am now hooked on Six Feet Under and must download every episode ever (20 to go).
More than 5000 pageviews on U2log.com today (average is around 2000). Wish these people'd all gimme 2 dollars.
Ankle update: still limping around the house, not up to long treks yet. Feeling a bit frustrated with all and everything. Does anyone have any lovely fluffy news?
I hope you're speaking for yourself, because this 'we' has never thought of the world in purely American ways. Interesting use of 'we' on a public weblog.
Kool: Kiefer on lokation for 24 S2. I think I should have watched S1.
I was looking for some info on a TV show called 'Civil Wars' that I liked a lot and thought to be an L.A. Law spin off. The truth is a little different, as I found out on these brilliant Crossovers and Spinoff pages.
All the time we've been told the French are great lovers? Seems like the Portugese have all the vocabulary.
Discuss the new U2 song at U2log.com.
Gosh, what's this? Wailing guitars, soaring voice, glockenspiel, powerbass, bittersweet lyrics... it must be the new U2 single...
Movie trailer voice overs... remember that post? (quicktime link, thx to ijsbrand)
Note to self: Read, memorise: Tales from Shakespeare. (for the lazy reader, i.e. me)
Overheard:
Young doctor 1: "Did you have a look that ankle fracture?"
Young doctor 2: "Yes, I did."
Young doctor 1: "Anything interesting?"
Young doctor 2: "Naah."
Me: // I'm. Right. Here. Wankers. //
I had the most delightful day showing an acquaintance from Denver around Amsterdam. Like me, not a tourist trap victim, she preferred just drinking, eating, casual shopping and talking. Beers on Nieuwmarkt, a trek around the shops, giggling in the Bulldog (My first time ever in that place. Just say no, kids.), noodles at Wagamama, checking out piercings, tattoos, smart shops (ugh), and finally more beer and ample discussion in De Kletskop.
And then I twisted my ankle badly and ended up in E.R.
I've been playing with The Sims all week (Buffy's a bitch, Giles and The Host are getting it on, gasp, even adopted a baby but couldn't take care of it so it was taken away from them. Spike doesn't want to know anybody. Angel just wants to paint. Don't ask.) Here's something Sim-like: City Creator... [via plasticbag.org]
This is all Gordon's fault. Army of Lovers - Obsession. Enjoy. (I can hear Kylie do this one. In fact, I'm waiting for the giant Confide in Me/Obsession remix)
Once More With Feeling, the Buffy musical soundtrack, can now be ordered from Amazon.com 
Believe it or not, all I had to do to take these two pictures was turn around.
I'm sure that business park looked fab on some architect's drawing pad, but it felt absolutely soulless.
BLOGGER BRASIL. Pyra partners with Globo. Check out the sign up area (under "Cadastre-se"), it's a tad different from Blogger proper.
Gosh, remember the 80s? VPRO are streaming Von Magnet and Coil live from 'New Forms 2002'
Ended up at a table with a few people I didn't know a couple of days ago, doing some private business. Interesting group, two Russians, one American, one Dutch, one Surinamese and myself. The Russian asked me questions about my business and didn't bother listen to the answer or have any kind of interest after paying me in yankee dollars. The American asked me my profession and proceeded to tell the Surinamese girl that web designers were obsolete because "there's software now that can do all that", the Surinamese girl turned out to be a friend of the psychologist I mentioned a few posts earlier. The Dutch girl was quite nice.
Whatever you do, never let go.
I have abandonment "issues", I believe. "Everybody's going to leave me and I will be alone in the end. I am a nasty person and nobody wants to know me."
It's not so much an issue now as it was when I was younger, when my mother passed away. Eventually my family ended up on the opposite side of the world to me. It left me all alone in a house I didn't know, with a dad I had to be reacquainted with, a stepmother I didn't get on with, in a village where nobody spoke a kind of Dutch I could understand, and without a single friend.
It isn't as prominent as it was in college when my decision not to graduate completely alienated me from the group of people I thought to be my mates.
That's all a long time ago. I'm all growed up now and whatever else may be wrong, my cluster of friends feels right. Somehow, along the way, I managed to convince a bunch of people I'm not a nasty person at all. I cherish them, these people of all ages, all kinds of backgrounds and nothing much in common but all manner of tie ins with me.
I'm not sure what I have done to piss off the year 2002, but it has been trying its best to tear down what I've so carefully built over the last 20 years. In the space of four months I lost two of my best friends. Lost as in irrevocably, undeniably dead. They couldn't have been more different from each other, at opposite ends of the spectrum. It has left my world a little narrower, a little duller.
Between two deaths, I lost my job. That is 8 hours a day I am left with just the voices in my head. I should be drowning myself in sorrow, wallowing in the mire and fill in some more morbid metaphore, but I'm not. Where there's darkness, there is light. You shed your tears and you grab hold of each other. You reach out. You touch. I have come to appreciate the merits of the all American 'hug'.
Whenever key figures are gone, relationships shift, hierarchies change and there's beauty in that. There's beauty in comfort found in unexpected arms. Welcome that, and don't let go. Don't take it for granted. Cherish it now. Build a new fortress, defend it with all your might.
I feel more defiant, more angry than I have in a long time and more willing to make changes. But I'm not willing to lose any more people. You hear me? If you want any more of my friends you'll have to come through me.
This time, it's personal.
{ originally written for Whereveryouare }
Vaughan writes: "Please note the title of this entry. It could signal the start of something really, really stupid. [...] It's like the parlour game of Consequences, see? The next name to appear here will hopefully belong to somebody entirely different." Meg, Stuart and myself have played. Who's next?
I wonder if it's the weather. Yesterday, 34 degrees, humid. I re-installed my copy of The Sims and played with it for 7 hours straight. Well... perhaps it was these skins that made me do it. Imagine a household of The Host, Ethan Rayne and Rupert Giles. God, the drama! I only interrupted gameplay to cycle down to the shops (the sun literally battered me off my bike) to buy an extension pack.
LOOK AT ME, a gallery of found photographs. [via MF]
"So, did I tell you I'm going to take acting classes?" Really? That's cool! "Yeah, I thought it might help me overcome my shyness" Shy? You're not shy. "I am too! I'm a wallflower. Me at parties? I don't talk to anyone." But... you're quite eloquent. "Yeah, but I don't like small talk, I can't do it." That's not shyness, that's arrogance. Touché.
I've a (relatively new) friend who is a psychologist. A conversation with her can turn into a personality assessment. Which is all right with me, I've no problems chewing down some home truths. I know them anyway, it's good to have them spelled out once every while. Last night, I talked with her for two and a half hours on the phone. I can't remember talking on the phone for so long, it's been years. While we were talking a large insect (one of those big green thingies that hover over water a lot... can't think of their name) flew into my room and spent its final hours gasping, fluttering, rattling useless wings, around the house. Nobody's going to come take care of you, dear, you're on your own.
This is for Hg. I'd link to the entry, but Sashinka's archives aren't working. Anyway: Razzle in my pocket...
It's so lovely when your childer go one up on you. I've been blogging since 1999, one time "a-list-there-is-no-a-list" non-member, have a fair bunch of quiet yet loyal readers, but I've never, ever been asked to guestblog. No, prolific.org now appears as 'new find' on young blogs. If I were trying to leave my mark on the web, I surely failed.
"Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned." -- 'Dirge Without Music', Edna St. Vincent Millay
Don't worry, I'm not looking at you. Gorgeous, dressed in blue. Morphine - Whisper.
Depeche Mode - One Night in Paris, really doesn't come across on my tiny tiny telly... Lovely Corbijn stuff. Some audio oddness, particularly when Martin sings. The extra material on the second disc fails to give me a buzz.
"My thoughts are with you," he says. I ponder this, I picture this. His thoughts take shape, a tiny object, a worry stone, a piece of string, a shell. I put you in my pocket, when I'm feeling blue. I'm clutching at straws, I'll take anything. Beggars can't be choosers.
Look, if you absolutely have to rent a tandem bike, and absolutely have to ride it in town, and if you have to cut me off and ride me into the sidewalk, then please, just please have the decency to apologise. Because, you know, telling me to 'fuck off' when I question your ability to navigate is not very nice. And then you get me hollering 'FUCK YOU' in your face. Which I am sure you want to avoid. So... remember this: "tandem bike = longer than normal bike = be careful." Oh, bugger that, you know what? Just don't choose Amsterdam to be a tourist in. Go away.
Strangely, prolific.org wasn't in the eatonweb portal :: the original weblog directory yet. Go add yourself. [update: oh bollocks, now I'm in there twice again.]
The postman rang. "I'm looking for number 94-III", he asked. "This is 95". "I don't get it, how does it work?", he said. "Well...," I said, speaking slowly, "this is 95, an odd number. 94 is even... so it would be on the other side of the road, wouldn't it?" "Oh... is that how it works? I hope I delivered the mail correctly."
Photographer Philippe Carly needs help indentifying some concert photos he took at the Futurama Festival in 83. I think that's Stuart Adamson in there.
Learn 10 pointless facts about me. Here are the questions.
I've decided that job interviews are degrading. "Why did you leave that company?" "Um... because... oh fuck off, it's none of your business."
Remember I applied for a "content editor" job recently and found out and told them what they really needed was a web developer? I just noticed the company has chanced their job ad. Wanted "web developer". I should charge them.
Soft Cell. New vid. Monoculture. Monotonous.
secretthree.com | late night traffic: "to be honest i'm not entirely sure what the purpose of this website is, but i do know that i love taking photographs and love even more to share them."
I met most of my old college professors today. They all remembered me, as I remembered them. One of them, (English lit. first year, 1982) said: "Hey, how are you? I believe you left school to write a book?" Wow. The English department at Teacher Training College in Utrecht has always been a mad place full of mad Brits, Scots and Yanks. I didn't do much studying, but enjoyed my time there. Miss it sometimes. We'll all meet again in a few weeks, to get locked, remember and celebrate a life. Why is the past always prettier in hindsight? We had the best of times, we had the worst of times, but hey, I'll remember selectively.
Actor James Marsters in SFX magazine: "America is like a 16 year old. Unfortunately, that 16 year old has a gun."
Thursday morning, sweating in my funeral gear - simply obsessing over shoes to wear. Shoes that miss laces. And instead of picking other footwear, the crazed brain leads me out into the street to buy new laces. In the neighbourhood where you cannot get the most obvious things.
I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colors anymore I want them to turn black. I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes. I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.
'Puccini', the puppet master, is a mean old man. He wears a shabby salesman suit and a trilby hat.
Puccini: Let go of me.
Voice: Never.
Puccini: [in his whiny Punch voice] Let me go! Oh, my poor nose! Murder! Let go! Have a heart! Er... I'll just go put on me boots. Shan't be a minute.
Voice: [laughs] That won't work with me, Puccini.
Puccini: [resigned] All right, I'll come with you.
Voice: And come you will.Blackout.
[ from "Punch", a play by Scott Hickey and Caroline van Oosten de Boer. Performed by E.T.U. Punch, Puccini and all other puppets: J.S. ]
It's fitting. Congratulations to Mr and Mrs Gorjuss on the birth of their baby boy.
I just woke up. I read my mail. I've lost another friend. J.S., rest in peace.
'Don't let her leave,' the waiter told my friends. He returned with a coffee mug for me to take home. I guess dragging 15 people to 'De Portugees' over the last couple of months has not gone unnoticed.
I was up till 4 am reading the 'annotated Nemesis script' (pdf link) which is both very funny and absolutely vile. I like it where it pokes fun at the script. I hate it where it drags people's supposed sexuality through the mud. Infuriating.
I got 30 hits from daypop top 40 and I've no idea why.
Some black and whites of some Dutch people who happen to have weblogs.
Check the photo galleries at Ehrensteinland... great b/w Hollywood photography.
FilmJerk.com: Star Trek Nemesis, rough cut preview review... "Worf, the once noble warrior, is reduced to primary comic relief, as he stumbles around drunk or embarrassed, frightened and uncomfortable, rarely ever showing even a trace of Klingon testosterone roiling around those (presumably) giant Klingon testicles of his. He's a big, fat pussy."
Where have I been? I didn't know the trailer for Star Trek Nemesis was out. I like the look and vibe of it. Less Insurrection, more First Contact. We like our Trek dark, thanks. Here it is: Star Trek Nemesis 12 - 13 - 02. It's a big trailer. Broadband only. Dear me... is that our Captain getting some?
What I want for Christmas: The Prisoner.
I must read this: The Thinking Woman’s Bastard: Russell Crowe and Women’s Internet Fan Culture. (not a fan, just like the subject... and love the title)[ via Field Notes: the weblog] (update: ...first part of it seems written for people who know very little about online fandom, it gets better.)
I read 'Krabat, Meester van de Zwarte Molen', by Otfried Preussler when I was young. It's a folk tale type kids's novel, about a young boy who ends up studying the dark arts with a miller. When he finds out what price the apprenctices pay, he tries to escape with the help of a girl he's met in the village. I picked up an English translation, Curse of the Darkling Mill, not too long ago and re-read it this week. It didn't capture my imagination as much as it did when I read it first. It's always been on my list of favourite books, but this time it seemed a light weight and its pacing was clumsy. Maybe I've outgrown children's books.
Rented this weekend: Spy Game, Unbreakable and Mists of Avalon, all of which I mostly enjoyed. Spy Game was entertaining, clever, lacked a little heart(ache). Unbreakable was good throughout but has the most inane ending in the history of cinema. Mists... it's hard to film a book like that, one of my favourites. They didn't butcher it completely, but it seemed a bit sanitised, too much vaseline. Julianna Margulies pulls off a believable English accent, if a bit stilted. The book's a lot sexier and a must read.
Rick Danko: "When we were young we thought that we could change the world. Now we're happy we were able to help the neighbourhood."
Just saw Robbie Robertson play a bit of The Band's "The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down" on a grand piano. Singing it, the gravelly voice a whisper, the piano touch subtle. Solo. Wow. Remembered just why I was such a big fan of his in the late Eighties. This is the programme... Robbie's bit is there as an au file. (One of my prize posessions, from my fan girl era, would be the brief handwritten letter I got from Mr Robertson.)
The Poachers and the Stormtroopers: Cultural Convergence in the Digital Age: "Those of us -- as citizens and academics -- who want to believe that the net has a transformative potential in our culture, society, and politics, should be lending our voices to the fans who are on the front lines exploring how this media will be used in relations to the entrenched power of the culture industries."
rachelandmarcel.com - 312027 seconds and counting... Oh... Rachel and Marcel are getting married. Somehow I'd forgotten. Or just missed it. Hope they have a brilliant day.
Shame on me, I've never sat through all of The Wizard Of Oz [1939]. I've ordered it. Fly my pretty, fly.
{click to enlarge}
Bert Barten's production of "Faust" was set in the wilderness. A post-apocalyptic vision built on Almere's bleakest polder: a giant dumpster behind 'no entry' signs.
We were seated on open air scaffolding, set on rails in the middle of a U-shaped arena.
Faust and Gretchen's dwellings were built in a favela type environment, 100 meters wide, 20 meters deep. Dozens of extras were milling about in mud and chemical slosh, dressed in rags, arguing, limping, stealing, worshipping a plastic virgin. So far, so good.
the5k.org : winners...woohoo, Milo did really well!
SLOWER.NET: pretty pics.
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Excercise in futility, part II. My hands are covered in printer ink. Dug out my age old printer (never reconnected after moving house 4 years ago). No XP drivers. Found hacked driver. Yay for the net. Went to buy new cartridge. Looked up manual on web. Found but did not read properly. Removed old cartridge while head still moving. Opened new cartridge without looking. Didn't fit. Picked up old cartridge. Looked different. Sigh. Wrong cartridge. Looked at hands... ugh. Went back to shop. Glared at shop assistants, ready to pay for new cartridge. Shop assistants went out of their way saying they can't refund because the thing's open. Hissed "I KNOW that, I'll PAY for a new one." Just fucking give me one. Now. They kept apologising. If they had any class they'd have given me a discount, but they didn't. Result: 50 euros shorter and very sweaty. Now I'm grumpy. Maybe I already was. The printer doesn't print.
Smoking does not make things better. Swimming only makes it wetter.
RingFAQ.com (for when I get bored of reading Buffy sites)
I checked out 'Love for Sale', an exhibition of "Four centuries of prostitution in Amsterdam" at the Amsterdams Historisch Museum (extremely annoying full screen window) It was rather good, with pictures, objects, rooms, video, paintings and installations. Interesting to learn in the 1900s or so, "musicos" were brothels posing as cabaret bars and in the 20th century brothels would operate behind tobacconist facades. Check this image, Miss Jenny's calling card, "Cigar Wholesale".
RUSH OF BLOOD TO THE HEAD... promoting Coldplay's new album.
Today was an excercise in futility. Job interview in a remote area with little public transport. In one of these business areas outside of town. In one of these prefab buildings. With one of these meganational companies. For a job I could do in my sleep. With a boss I'd outsmart unconcious. Coming home was good.
Jon C. Allen designs movie posters.
So many times at the cinema we ask ourselves: is it always the same guy who does those trailers? ("In a WOOOOORLD where...") Well, it is. (v MF)
Why wait for the next time at "De Portugees" when you have plenty of time to try things at home? Preparing Porco com Amêijoas à Alentejana for tonight. Got some interesting looking clam-type shell food from the market, apparently caught somewhere off the coast of Italy or Spain. Pork's sitting in a white wine and piri piri marinade. [update: gorgeous. next time use pork from a better butcher.]
Scrote's English Food. Yanked from a lovely MF thread.
It's studio time. "Full on". Good luck boys and girl. Capture beauty.
Lebanese restaurant Beyrouth (Kinkerstraat 128, Amsterdam) is a tiny place I've been to three times over the last 15 years. It's been excellent every time. Last night I ordered two starters and a veggie main course and made them serve it all at once while my friends went for the mezze (... like tapas). Homous (I cannot not order it), Fool Moudamas, and tabouleh. Very very tasty. Washed down with arak. Too bad seem to have succumed to the nationwide 'switch to Euro/up the prices' virus.
I've implemented TrackBack at U2log. Now if some kind MT user could ping this URL http://u2log.com/mt/mt-tb.cgi?tb_id=19 so I can demonstrate how it works... (I can't use my own blog because of the way my archives are set up.)
Many many thanks to W. and J. for the (belated, but no less appreciated) birthday present, this gorgeous Leopold Vienna 'edelstahl, matt' cocktail shaker.
Saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Fell asleep. TVs, glam rock... yeah, yeah. I went through the extras and ended up watching most of the 'Making of' documentary while I was washing dishes and doing the laundry. It was so detailed it seemed to have been made in real time. Blah blah blah blah blah full of ourselves blah blah.
I dreamt a joke. That's a first I think. I dreamt I was talking about a musical theatre show with a friend, and the friend said: "He left the production. It wasn't very good. He said all the musicians were professionals. Professional builders." The other thing I remember from the dream are shoes. A pair of the most gorgeous shiny maroon leather creepers. Big shoes are sexy. 's Funny how when you crave beautiful things, the mind just makes them up.
Strange fact: I never found a lot of web content jobs when I was working development. And I WAS looking. Now there seem to be lots.
"La la la". *smooch*
Any Tequila specialists out there? I've got this recipe for Margeritas I'd like to try. "Squeeze a lime into a cocktail shaker. Pour in an equal amount of Herradura Silver. Add half that measure of Triple Sec. Shake with copious amounts of ice. Serve." Now, Herradura's not available in the off licence here, so I got Sauza Blanco. Now all I need is a cocktail shaker... and that's a problem in this pedestrian part of town.
Stealing Beauty (1996): What an intensely sad man Bertolucci is. I think Mr Ebert's review of this film says it all.
3000 photos, 30 concerts.... A Metafilter thread about a fan and collector. I think none of my closest friends would be particularly impressed or surprised by this article. 30 gigs? Pah!
He looks good in clothes, but everything about him just screams 'dim', and I'm not even talking about the interview. It's so very unsexy.
Low had a link to this article, Lady of the Rings, about Jasmine Watson, who made the jewelry for the LOTR films. Very pretty pictures. Jasmine's got her own site too. With more pretty pictures.
notmyself.com: cool domain name, nice looking blog.
Can't believ